Death's Cold Embrace
by Gaerdir
Summary: A boy trudges through a Great Hall filled with lamenting survivors and victims of the latest, and most damaging, battle. Will he find what he is looking for? One-shot. COMPLETE.


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**Death's Cold Embrace**

_By Gaerdir_

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"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." - J.K. Rowling

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Death.

Its stench hung in the air. Stifling and heavy, it easily sobered the boy's festive mood as he slowly picked his way across the cluttered Great Hall. He had just watched his hero defeat the greatest Dark Lord the Wizarding World had faced for over 50 years.

His family was finally _free_.

He had never really realized the kind of effect the news of Voldemort's return had on his family. Sure, they weren't filthy rich, but they had each other, and that's all that really mattered, right?

Only, the tension and danger that had hung around in their normally lively atmosphere had disrupted any sense of levity and a chance for a throwback to the old times; their carefree childhoods, listening to their father's impossible stories, and their mother's soft reprimands, interspersed with her happy giggling. The family hardly went out anymore, staying behind shut and locked doors in a futile attempt to offer a defense against an unstoppable enemy. How he longed for that happiness so prevalent in the past.

Recently, he and his brother had begun to look at each other with a sense of awe as they watched their parents interact. It was rare that their parents ever totally relaxed now; the strain of making ends meet and paying for their magical education was having its effect on their lives, but they refused to let that misfortune get in the way of their children. Whenever either boy voiced his concerns, their father gave the same (more or less) reply – "Its magic, boys. Do you have any idea how amazing it is to think of you performing _magic_?"

The boy chuckled softly. His normally serious looking father seemed to regress into a childlike state when he asked them about their schoolwork. He was always open-minded and ready to hear more. The boy shook his head. It was nice to see adults who accepted magic so easily. He heard Harry Potter's life hadn't been as idyllic.

Now if only he could just find his brother. Their parents were waiting for them back home. It was time to go tell them the news of the victory.

The boy shook his head. His impulsive older brother had run off the first chance he got, telling him to go ahead and move to safety.

"I want you to go with them. You don't know too much helpful spells yet, so you'll just be putting yourself in more danger. I've got to go help Harry. This is it. Do or die. Hold on to this for me, will you?"

The boy clutched at the object in his arms as a sense of growing panic began to set in him. He had brushed past most of the clumped groups, some of whom were quietly sobbing, and others who were openly bawling in pain, sitting at the House tables. He hadn't seen his brother yet. Maybe he went outside? But why would he do that? Was he looking for Harry Potter?

The boy nearly sprinted towards the doors that would answer his questions. Murmurs arose throughout the room as his sudden action drew the attention of a lot of the wary, watching wizards. After determining that he wasn't an enemy, their attention reverted to their family members and the sense of mixed relief and grief returned to the air to bolster the cries.

Strangely, as he drew closer to the doors of the Great Hall, his vision tunneled, as if something else other than him was controlling his sight. He could see his red-headed senior, Ginny Weasley, kneeling near the doors, talking quietly. She heard his hurried footsteps and turned quickly.

A light of recognition briefly entered her eyes, before a shroud of grief covered it once more.

She beckoned to him slightly, directing him towards her. He hesitated and then moved towards her. His uneasy feeling returned stronger than before.

He greeted her shakily, before focusing on what was lying behind her. And then he froze. Memories began to flash through his head unbidden.

"_Hey! Mom! Pops! Come look at this letter I got!"_

"_Wow! Here, read about this Harry Potter guy! He defeated a Dark Lord when he was just a year old!"_

"_You wouldn't believe me if I told you! We have ghosts and everything!"_

"_I'm going to take all the pictures I can, so you guys can see too, Mom, Dad."_

"_Hey, Harry Potter saved us all again! I wish I could go with him on his adventures…"_

"_Even being petrified was kind of cool. It was like I stepped through time or something."_

"_Just you wait. In a couple of months you'll get your letter too!"_

"_See, I told you! I can't wait to tell Mom and Dad!"_

"_Hey, now you can meet Harry Potter too!"_

"_See, learning magic is awesome! Isn't it, Dennis?"_

"_Come on, Dennis! Let's finish up our homework so we can go to Diagon Alley!"_

"_Mom, Dad, we gotta be extra careful now. That Dark Lord I told you about, the one Harry beat? He came back. No one believes Harry, but we're all in danger. Especially us, because of our origins."_

"_Dumbledore died, Ma. The Headmaster's dead. I heard Harry talking about leaving to do something, so me and Dennis, we gotta provide the back up at school. I have to do this, Ma."_

"_I want you to go with them. You don't know too much helpful spells yet, so you'll just be putting yourself in more danger. I've got to go help Harry. This is it. Do or die. Hold on to this for me, will you? I'll be back in no time, Dennis. Just wait."_

Dennis Creevey's mind stuttered to a stop as he stared at the uncovered face of the shrouded body behind Ginny.

He could hear someone distant, screaming in pain and loss, as they found a loved one dead. He shuddered at the feeling in the lament, tears coming to his eyes as he continued to listen numbly. Warm arms crossed across his shaking chest and a face buried itself in his back. Murmuring sounds trickled into his ears, jolting him out of the unfeeling state he was in.

With a shock, he realized he was the one screaming. The camera in his hands clattered to the ground as he sunk to the floor in shock and denial. Mechanically, he reached for the one item his brother had given him for safekeeping, and stood once again, barely composing himself with a considerable effort. With an ease that disguised the pain such an act caused, Dennis raised the camera with a deceptively calm grip… and took a picture of his brother, lying peacefully and calmly on the ground.

Dennis took a shaky breath, and _remembered_.

"_Hey, Dennis, I started on another project."_

"_Another one, Colin? You never even finished the last twenty-three!"_

"_Yeah but this one's different! It's easy! Mom and Dad bought me a camera, you know, for my eighth birthday. Don't tell them that I know! But I heard them coming in when they thought we weren't home yet. So I got this wicked idea…"_

"_Well, out with it then! How long are you going to draw it out?"_

"_I'm going to take a picture of everything interesting I see throughout my life. And then, when I grow too old to be moving around much, kinda like Grand-Uncle Gary, I'm going to look through all the pictures, and pick out the good ones. And then, I'm going to publish a book called 'Colin Creevey: A Life of Images'!"_

"… _You know, that doesn't sound half bad, Colin."_

"_But one thing's for sure… It's going to be published posthumorously… you know, after I die."_

"_Wha? Why?"_

"_I want the book to end with an image of me in my death bed. And I'll start it with one of me as a newborn. Put a couple of childhood pictures in it. It'll actually be about my whole life! But I'll need someone to take the picture, you know? So, Dennis, when we're all old and wrinkly, and if I kick the bucket before you, take a picture of me, will ya?"_

Dennis shuddered and fell to his knees, and dropped the camera again. Ginny embraced him as he dropped the thin veneer of self-control he was holding, and was thrown by the seas of emotion crashing through him.

But his still detached mind made one last observation before it too was lost at sea.

He, Dennis Creevey, kneeled in a loved one's, a friend's warm embrace, while his brother, Colin Creevey, lay in…

Death's cold embrace.

_**FIN**_


End file.
